


i think of thee!

by wayvbabey



Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: F/M, Fluff, in this house we stan papa's pizzeria
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26441923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayvbabey/pseuds/wayvbabey
Summary: You’ve noticed, during your long shifts at the public library, that a boy (who very clearly knows nothing about books) is trying to woo a girl (who very clearly loves her books). In a gesture of goodwill (and because you’re very bored), you decide to help the poor soul out.
Relationships: Liu Yang Yang/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	i think of thee!

-

It’s a Tuesday morning when the whole book cart comes crashing down.

The library is quiet during the week which means you get a lot of time to relax. Your job isn’t very strenuous, mostly consisting of policing which books go in and out and assissting the occasional indecisive reader. But most of the time, like now for instance, you are at your desk, heavily invested in playing _Papa’s Pizzeria_ on the computer _._ Therefore, the loud noise the cart makes has you jumping out of your seat in fright before you compose yourself and quickly scan around the room to ensure whatever had just happened could be fixed. You didn’t want someone to complain or your boss to walk in, and the sooner you clear this up the quicker you can get back to your game.

Standing next to the toppled book cart is a cute young man who looks _very_ guilty. Your culprit. His eyes meet yours from across the room and you’re pleased with the apologetic look he gives you. It serves him right for dragging you away from your seat. Luckily for him, however, your sympathy kicks in and you hurry over to put him out of his misery. Sure, you could’ve watched him pick it up himself like some sad little overlord of the library, but it would look _very_ bad on you.

It’s not his fault, of course. That particular book cart is notoriously known for being on its last legs and often scares the children by suddenly collapsing around them. No-one can be bothered to replace it despite your protests (you don’t want to be part of _that_ lawsuit) so it’s usually left alone by everyone. Therefore, you deduce, this man is a newcomer. You knew that already though; he’s a far cry from the usual elderly couples and children that come in for a browse. In fact, the closer you get, the more handsome he becomes, which causes you to exhale angrily through your nostrils. You’re fine talking to old people and youngsters, but when you, a librarian that’s _not_ over thirty, talk to someone your own age who’s also good-looking, you just feel _weird_.

“Are you alright?” You ask him as you come over.

“I’m fine.” He confirms and you quietly let out a small sigh of relief. You weren’t sure if people could sue for emotional damage but you didn’t want to find out. “Sorry about this though,” he gestures sheepishly to the mess on the floor, books thrown everywhere. You briefly think back to how you were mid-level in _Papa’s Pizzeria_ but you can’t find it in yourself to be mad at him. He looks about as fed up as you feel, though it doesn’t detract from his handsomeness.

“It happens a lot, don’t worry. Just help me pick it up.” You reply before leaning down grab the cart. He follows, holding the other end and starting to lift.

It’s heavier than it looks and you have to stifle a grunt as your muscles protest, because you’ll be _damned_ if a cute boy hears that noise come out of you. He doesn’t even look like he’s breaking a sweat as he adjusts his grip.

“Are you even lifting?” You ask him apprehensively. 

“Yes!” He hisses back, obviously in equal discomfort although you can’t help but notice that his attention isn’t on the task at hand. In fact, his eyes dart around the room as if he’s looking for something. If you were in any other situation you might follow his gaze (you wouldn’t, you would be playing _Papa’s Pizzeria_ ) but your grip on the book cart is slipping and you only have some flimsy converse on your feet to protect them, so if you drop this thing then it’s game over.

But then he does it again, surveying the room after the book cart is back on its feet, just before he gets down on his knees and helps you pick up the fallen books. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this boy isn’t here for the books, especially as he carelessly tosses a limited edition _Wuthering Heights_ back onto the rack.

“You can go now,” you dismiss him once the last book is back on the cart, fed up with his obvious lack of interest. His pretty face couldn’t save him from the fact that he was now only an annoyance to you. He hadn’t even bothered to make conversation.

“Really?” He smiles at you, looking adorably cute. “Thanks!”

Then he’s off, brown hair bobbing up and down as he walks, and you watch him go. All in all, you decide as you make your way back to the desk, he was an attractive, odd guy who, while momentarily distracting you from building your pizzeria empire, you forget about for the rest of your shift.

Except he comes back on a Wednesday afternoon. You’re sitting at your desk helping Sooah, a regular with an affinity for Shakespeare, return some of her books when you see him walk in, glancing at the two of you briefly before going to browse.

He’s dressed casual, blue jeans and a black hoodie with some cartoon character displayed on the back. Maybe he was here for the comics? 

You frown. 

That didn’t make sense. If he was, then why was he so distracted yesterday? You can’t answer that and so you click _pause_ on _Papa’s Pizzeria_ and observe him for a while.

It’s boring and a waste of your time, but you _do_ notice he spends most (all) of the time staring at Sooah, who’s buried in an _Othello_ , while pretending to read a book.

You say ‘pretending’ because the book is upside down.

Are you watching a real-life version of ‘ _You’_ play out in the library? While the thought is obviously not true, you decide to keep an eye on the myster boy for the remainder of the afternoon, _just in case_. 

It’s mostly uneventful, but you manage to figure everything out when Sooah goes to leave.

The guy goes to leave too, taking his book with him- or _trying_ to, anyway. He doesn’t bother to check it out.

“Excuse me!” You call after him, leaning over the desk to try and get him back in. It works and he comes jogging back, casting a quick glance out the door before giving you his full attention (for once).

“Do you know you have to check out a book with the librarian if you want to take it out of the library?” You ask him innocently, watching the gears turn in his head.

“What?” His nose wrinkles up adorably, but that doesn’t stop you from delivering the final blow.

“Have you ever set foot in a library before, or are you just here to stalk pretty girls?”

He goes bright red and you know you’ve hit the nail on the head. He’s probably wondering ‘ _are librarians often this rude to people?’_ or something like that-

“I’m not stalking you!”

Now it’s your time to look confused as you put the pieces together. 

“I… wasn’t talking about me,” you tell him slowly like you’re speaking to a child. “You’re staring at Sooah.”

He goes a deeper shade of red, if that’s even possible, averting his eyes when he realises he’s not as sneaky as he seems. 

“I am _not_ stalking her.” He tells you sternly, before tossing his book onto your desk and legging it out the entrance, leaving you to peer after him bemusedly. 

The book he’s discarded is _Sonnets from the Portuguese_ , your favourite poetry book. Therefore, you decide that you do _not_ like this dude.

-

It’s a Friday afternoon and you are _fuming_.

Sandra, a good-for-nothing coworker of yours, has got _Papa’s Pizzeria_ blocked on the computer’s system. You stew in silence, drumming your fingers on the desk and making a mental reminder to ask Yukhei to help you gang up on Dejun, another regular who’s surprisingly good with technology. And get Sandra fired, if that’s possible.

Because of this tragedy, you are bored out of your mind, left only to stare at people as they browse around and occasionally send a fake smile to the children that ogle at you.

Until _he_ comes in, not even sparing you a glance as he makes his way to the reading tables where Sooah sits. Like a true stalker (or coward, you’re still unsure) he sits far away from her, this time picking up a comic book and thumbing through it.

You’re not sure if it’s the boredom or the urge to get him out of the library that forces you out of your seat to go up to him. Or maybe it could be because you’re petty, and you’ve kept your beloved poetry book that he threw away under the desk.

“You forgot this,” you thrust it out to him and watch as he turns, sees it’s you and starts to speak.

“I don’t want that. You _clearly_ already know I don’t give a shit about books.”

You toss the book onto the table while he flinches slightly at the sound, staring up at you apprehensively as you take a seat opposite him and turn the book so it’s facing him.

“Okay, so one, that’s very offensive to me. Two, _I_ don’t care if _you_ don’t care about books, and three, Sooah doesn’t like Barrett Browning, so you’re way out of the ballpark with this one. And comic books: she’s _never_ picked up a comic book in all the time I’ve seen her here.”

He does his cute nose wrinkle again. “What? Well, what _does_ she like then, Miss Know-It-All? Every time _I_ try to talk to her, it’s as if we’re speaking different languages.”

You can’t help but snort at his petulant tone, which earns you a glare. You still can’t take him seriously though, given the way he looks so upset at himself.

“Stop laughing!”

“Sorry, sorry,” you let out your last giggle, miming zipping your lips before folding your legs and leaning closer to him. 

“Do you want to know how to _actually_ woo her?”

“Please never say ‘woo’ again,” he deadpans, “but yes. Why? Do you like her as well?”

“Well first off,” you say, “what’s your name?”

“Liu Yangyang.”

“ _Right_. Slightly weird name, but we can work with that.” You nod seriously.

“It’s not weird! You’re so rude, do you know that?”

“I know, I was joking,” you roll your eyes. “I’m a librarian, I’m well acquainted with weird names. I’m Y/N. Don’t joke about my name.”

“I wasn’t going to,” he sasses, “because I’m not _rude_.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” you press on, “I’m fed up with you knocking stuff over, insulting my favourite poetry collection and generally acting like a weirdo. Oh- also, I can’t play my game anymore, so there’s that. Also, it’s kinda pathetic, you staring from afar. So, if helping you talk to Sooah is what it takes, then I’m helping you;”

He regards you suspiciously for a moment, before slowly extending a hand out for you to shake.

“Okay, Y/N, you have a deal.”

-

The next time you meet with Liu Yangyang is on a Saturday morning in a small cafe of your choosing. You’re once again reminded of your talents in the literary arts as you persuade him to buy you a cake, and sit discussing tactics with him while enjoying the merits of your labour (aka, the cake).

“Do we really have to do this?” He sighs, rubbing his bleary eyes. Evidently, he is not a morning person.

_And that’s precisely why he isn’t Sooah’s boyfriend yet_ , you muse. _The early bird catches the worm._

“We do.” You shovel a forkful of cake into your mouth while he sips his coffee, waiting for you to spill what you know.

“I work three shifts a week,” you begin, “Tuesday morning, Wednesday afternoon and Friday afternoon. Sooah is in on all those days, possibly even more.”

“Yeah,” Yangyang interrupts you with a stupid grin on his face. “Sooah’s a bit of a bookworm.”

You throw a balled-up napkin at him. “Stop being so in love, it’s pathetic.”

“You’re pathetic,” he retaliates childishly. “I see her around campus sometimes.”

“What do you take?” You lick the icing off your fork.

“Dance.”

“Huh,” that stumps you because you really did see him as a technology guy, like Dejun. You tell him as such. He throws you a weird look.

“So are you just stalking her at the moment?” You try to gauge where he’s at.

“Stop _saying_ that,” he whines at you, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance. “But yes. I tried to talk to her once and it didn’t go too well.”

"Well, if you’re at rock bottom, you can only go up from there,” you try to comfort him before rattling off what else you know about her.

“She’s always reading classics such as Shakespeare, so I think you should start there. There’s lots of material available online for you to browse through and remember.”

“That should be easy enough,” he nods along seriously. “I did _Romeo and Juliet_ in high school.”

You stare at him, unimpressed, before picking up your bag and standing up as he watches you with a surprised expression on his face.

“I want you to know the plot of _Romeo and Juliet_ inside and out by tomorrow morning. If you _really_ want to impress her, then throw _Macbeth_ or _King Lear_ in as well. If you can’t do that, then don’t bother coming to the library tomorrow.”

“Wait-“

You don’t give him the chance to reply, instead walking away and leaving him still sitting in his chair with a stunned expression on his face.

-

Xiao Dejun has messy handwriting. When you were younger your father told you that smart people have messy handwriting because their hands can’t keep up with their brain. That’s probably true, because Dejun is the smartest guy you know.

“He says access a VPN,” you murmur to yourself, “but we don’t _use_ a VPN.”

“I have eyes on the target.”

You click random boxes hopelessly, totally lost. At this rate, you’ll have to sneak Dejun himself behind the desk next time he comes in instead of relying on his handwritten, impossible-to-read instructions.

“Target moving out of the romance aisle, I repeat, target movi-”

“Yukhei, can you shut the hell up?” You clench your fists, trying to resist the urge to strangle your coworker, who is currently using his hands as binoculars to snoop on Sooah. “You look _so_ creepy, dude.”

Sometimes you wonder how Wong Yukhei got a job here. Half of the time he’s trying to catch up on his Sociology assignments under the desk, and the other half is spent with him trying to make a domino trail out of books (he fails most of the time).

But despite all that, he is still one of your best friends. Mainly because you both hate Sandra and love _Papa’s Pizzeria_ , but that’s beside the point.

You carry on clicking away, just about ready to slam your head against the keyboard. Why couldn’t Dejun just fix it himself? Heck, you’d _pay_ him at this point-

“ _Woop_ , _woop_ , _woop_. Target two is inbound, scheduled for arrival in three, two, one-”

You grab the keyboard and whirl around in your desk chair, only to drop it harmlessly back onto the desk as Yangyang strolls up to you. Yukhei sends you an _eat shit_ grin as two books are placed onto the desk, _Romeo and Juliet_ and _Macbeth_ respectively. 

“There,” Yangyang puffs out his chest with a big grin on his face. “I read them.”

Yukhei nods from next to you. “Very impressive, young padawan,” and this time, you send an elbow into his stomach which causes the large male to curl up in pain.

“No-one gets your stupid Star Wars references, Yukhei!” You hiss at him as he winces.

“Who’s this guy?” Yangyang asks, eyes darting between the two of you.

“My coworker-”

“-and friend!”

“-Wong Yukhei. I told him about your problem.”

“It’s not a _problem_!” Yangyang defends, eyes widening. “And you _told_ someone?" 

You stare at him. "Yukhei can talk to girls, very well, might I add. You have no say in this.”

He flushes red, sticking his hands into his pockets and looking away while you turn to your friend, who has only just recovered from your devastating blow.

“Yukhei, go and talk to Sooah about StarWars or whatever, and let me and Yangyang sort something out.”

“Roger that,” he gives you a mock salute and hurries away before you can throw anything at him. Sighing at his antics, you turn back to Yangyang who is watching you with a strange on his face that is quickly wiped off once he sees you’re looking at him.

“What?” You ask him. He shrugs.

“Nothing. I just didn’t know the library was this lame.” He grins at you and for some reason you become flustered, ears burning as you try to defend yourself.

“You’ve mixed up the word 'lame’ with 'cool’.” You reply calmly. “Anyways, have you read them thoroughly?”

Yangyang nods, looking determined.

“Great. Now go over to her and start talking about them. If she’s interested, flip to the other so she knows you know what you’re talking about. If she recommends books, take it in your stride. Show her you care. You can do this.”

Yangyang nods enthusiastically. “I can _do_ this.”

He doesn’t look like he can do it. He’s nibbling on his lower lip, shoulders rising and falling as he takes deep breaths. You watch it play out with an unimpressed expression on your face.

“Do I look okay?” He asks you, flattening out his jeans and making sure his hoodie is even at the collar. “Shall I go grab a mint?”

“Go over there, Yangyang,” you warn him in a deceptively light tone. “Yukhei’s coming back.”

“Let’s go over the plan quickly-” he tries to rationalise with you but it’s too late, you slide down in your chair and kick his legs from under the desk, sending him scattering over to where Sooah is sitting.

You try not to watch the two of them (unlike a certain someone), but it’s either that or continue to try and bring _Papa’s Pizzeria_ back, and you’re not sure how much more of that you can take.

It doesn’t help that your eyes are drawn to Yangyang, from the way he twists his fingers together when he talks to her to the way he looks up as he tries to think of words to say. 

“We look so weird right now, don’t we?” Yukhei murmurs.

“Yeah,” you breathe, watching Yangyang smile from across the room while something weird twists in your gut. “So weird." 

-

The next time you see Yangyang it’s on Monday, your day off, at a different cafe of his choosing. He’d sent you the address via text and you are curled up in a booth in an oversized hoodie, your battered copy of _Sonnets from the Portuguese_ open on the table beside a cold latte.

It isn’t very busy in the cafe and the music is nice and quiet, allowing you the cosy intimacy you prefer when reading Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poems. Your eyes trail over each word, absorbing them for the thousandth time, and in the back of your mind you wonder if you will ever love someone like she had loved Robert Browning.

"Hey,” you look up to see Yangyang grinning down at you, two mugs in hand. 

“I didn’t know what you liked so I just got you a hot chocolate,” he sits down opposite you and slides it over to you. The way he smiles has you looking down, peering interestedly at your new drink. You chalk it down to the poetry.

“How did it go?” You bookmark your page and slip the book back into your bag, encasing your hot chocolate with both hands. “Have you scored a date?”

The way Yangyang lights up has you chewing on your bottom lip in irritation, but you keep it to yourself, letting him rant about her beauty and stunning personality. 

_'I never gave a lock of hair away/To a man, Dearest, except this to thee,’_

Sonnet 18 invades your thoughts and you sigh to yourself.

To put it in modern-day terms: you are fucked.

“- and then she asked if I wanted to go and see a movie-” you tune back in at the wrong time, choking on your drink.

“You _actually_ scored a date? Nice.” You congratulate him as best you can while trying not to cough too much.

“Yeah,” he scratches his head, seemingly shy at having to spill the beans. “She wants us to go and see the _Twelfth Night_ movie adaptation and compare it to the original.”

“Sounds fun,” you sip your drink again. “So, I take it you don’t need my help anymore?”

“No,” he cuts you off almost immediately. “You need to educate me on the T _welfth Night_. Is that, like, twelfth base or something?”

It takes you a moment to come up with a reply as you stare at him in disbelief. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“This is why I need you,” he pleads, eyes shining, and you groan.

“You’re going to have to come clean with her eventually, you know that, right?”

“I do,” Yangyang stretches his arms before draining the last of his drink, finally surfacing with a grin on his face at having successfully recruited you. “Now let’s go to a bookshop or something so I can _Twelfth Night_ the shit out Sooah.”

You rub your eyes with a sigh, wondering how on God’s green earth your life has come to this.

It doesn’t get any better. As you walk together, Yangyang doesn’t _shut up_.

“Should I invite her to my dance showcase? Dance is, like, a form of art, right? And so are books?”

“You’re so in love it’s sickening,” you sigh. He gently bumps your shoulder with his.

“Have you ever been in love, Y/N?”

You think back to your crushes and failed dates. “No,” you decide, “but maybe that’s why I like reading about it so much.”

“Why do you like reading about it?” Yangyang’s tone reveals he has no idea what you’re getting at and surprisingly, you don’t feel the need to make fun of him for his lack of knowledge on books.. You blink, wondering when you stopped seeing him as the idiot-library-stalker-boy and started seeing him as a friend. 

“It’s safer,” you press on, determined to prove your point. “Nothing goes wrong and, I don’t know, _reading_ about someone else’s love is just so personal to me. I get to see how the author views that person, an inside look, if you will. What’s more beautiful than being able to write down your love for someone and shout it out to the rest of the world?”

Yangyang whistles. “ _Damn_ , that was deep. I thought you were gonna rattle off some StarWars or quote or something.”

“I’m not Yukhei,” you shove him but can’t help the laugh that leaves your mouth.

“You’re not, that’s true. Actually, I don’t think I know _anything_ about you.” He peers down at you and you roll your eyes at his not-so-suble hint.

"I’m an English major, I work in a library, and I like poetry,” you rattle off, smirking at him. 

“ _Apart_ from being a nerd, I mean.” He corrects himself.

“I like video games and movies, I guess,” you reply. 

“Definitely a nerd.”

“I’m _not_ a nerd!”

“Whatever you say, nerd.” Yangyang laughs, eyes crinkling as he reaches out to poke your cheeks, which have puffed up in indignation.

You reach the bookshop after that which saves him from a punch to the shoulder. You can’t exactly chase him around the shop with the stern-looking lady on the register. 

After the two of you enter, Yangyang drifts off, seeing 'Shakespeare’ in big bold letters and losing himself. You, on the other hand, wander over to the sale items, seeing if you can stretch your paycheck to allow you to buy a few more books.

To your surprise, there’s a battered _Sonnets from the Portuguese_ sitting atop the pile, well-used but still in good condition. You pick it up, thumbing through the pages before glancing back over at Yangyang.

He’s so engrossed in his hunt for _Twelfth Night_ that you can head over to the register and buy what you need, which includes a sociology factbook for Yukhei and a memoir for yourself.

“Do you have anywhere to be?” Eventually, Yangyang joins you outside with a bag of his own, grinning as you shake your head.

“Then let’s read through _Twelfth Night_ together,” he starts to walk and you have no choice but to follow. Leaving him to read the play on his own would be a nightmare and it’s not as if you exactly mind helping him out.

He finally stops at the local park, grabbing a bench and sitting right next to you so you can both see the play. You ignore the way your shoulders are touching and gently help him decipher the context of the play, as well as the hidden meanings present in the text. 

But Yangyang doesn’t stay interested for long, instead moving to the grass and asking you to give him a rundown of the plot. You do so in your typical fashion and it has him in stitches. You ignore the way the wind picks up and sends a shiver down your spine in favour of twisting your words even further, enjoying the way he grins at your sarcasm and laughs at your pathetic jokes (there’s only so much to joke about in Shakespeare).

Eventually, the wind starts to carry a coldness with it, one that has you shivering and deciding to call it a night. But before you part ways, you press _Sonnets from the Portuguese_ into his hands, ignoring the adorably cute confused expression on his face that reminds you of a puzzled puppy.

“Earlier,” you explain, “you asked me why I read about love. I want you to read this, and then maybe you’ll understand what I mean.”

You want to snicker at the sort of dumbfounded expression on his face but instead wave goodbye, pulling your hoodie up and setting off home.

-

The next evening you’re over at Yukhei’s, binge-watching the latest _Star Wars_ films while curled up together on his bed.

“I think I like Yangyang,” you tell him, as Adam Driver appears shirtless on screen.

A pause.

“Oh,” Yukhei says.

“Yeah.” You reply, eyes still glued to the screen.

“That sucks. What’re you gonna do about it?”

“Dunno,” you reach over him and grab some popcorn. “Write some poetry? Send it to him anonymously? Ask for his hand in marriage?”

“ _Ha_ , _ha_ ,” Yukhei winds his arm around you, pressing your head to his chest, his best attempt at comforting you. “How do you know?”

“I don’t,” you reply softly. “I feel it. I like being around him, I like spending time with him, I like seeing him laugh and smile. I don’t want him to go to the movies with Sooah.”

“You could always try and woo him,” Yukhei points out, which draws a dry laugh out of you.

“I think that would be quite disrespectful to both him _and_ Sooah, Yukhei.”

“True,” he muses, “when’s their date?”

“Dunno,” you sigh. “I’m gonna have to wait.”

“The waiting game,” Yukhei sighs out, poking your forehead, “the worst game of all.”

You ignore him in favour of staring at his small television, debating whether or not to throw away your copy of _Sonnets from the Portuguese._

Elizabeth Barrett Browning made it look easy.

-

Wednesday afternoon is a victorious day for you because Sandra falls and Dejun prevails. _Papa’s Pizzeria_ is back, though it doesn’t quite interest you in the same way it did before. You can’t focus on the game, too busy watching the entrance for Yangyang’s arrival, though you doubt he’ll come. Sooah’s not here.

But he does, expression unreadable as he wanders over to you.

“How was the date?” You question cautiously, trying not to let your eagerness to know spill into your words.

“It was good,” he nods to himself. 

“Just good?” You repeat. “The girl of your dreams, the one you read _three_ plays for, went on a date with you, and it was ’ _just_ _good_ ’?”

He shrugs, looking away. “There was no spark.”

“No spark?” You repeat increduously, but he ignores you in favour of pulling something out his hoodie pocket. It’s the battered _Sonnets from the Portuguese_ collection that you gave him, here to haunt you again, except Yangyang thumbs through it, coming to a certain page before biting his lip.

“I didn’t feel like this lady did,” he inhales, gaze meeting yours. “I thought I liked her, but I didn’t.”

Then he clears his throat and starts reading.

“ _I think of thee!- my thoughts do twine and bud About thee, as wild_ as _\- as wild vines, about a tree-_ ”

“What are you doing?” Your eyes are wide, because there is _no way_ he is-

“ _Put out broad leaves, and soon there’s_ _nothing_ \- _there’s nought to see-_ ”

You whip your head around, trying to see if anyone’s watching and thanking the gods above that Dejun and Yukhei aren’t here to see this. “Yangyang what the _fuck_ are you doing?”

“I’m trying to read you a sonnet!” He hisses back, blushing furiously. “In case it wasn’t obvious!”

“Why are you doing that?”

“Because I _like_ you, stupid!” He’s still caught up in the moment, staring at you fiercely. 

“Oh.”

You’re sure you are mirroring him, face pink and mouth open. He gouges your reaction nervously, eyes searching your face before he looks back down.

“ _Except the straggling green which hides the wood_ -”

“Please stop reading,” you tell him quietly.

“Yep,” he snaps the book shut, shoving it back into his pocket, refusing you meet your gaze which you’re thankful for, because if _was_ looking at you then you don’t think you would have the courage to speak.

“When did you start liking me?” You press for details because you’re still confused. One minute you’re playing _Papa’s Pizzeria_ and the next your crush is confessing to you in the most strange and romantic manner. Your crush who was _supposed_ to like someone else.

“From when we first met,” he replies without missing a beat. “But I felt it on Monday when we spent a day together. That was _totally_ a date, by the way.”

“That wasn’t a date, Yangyang. I’m pretty sure it was, like, a business meeting or something.”

“Anyway,” he presses on, “Sooah and I went out on Tuesday, and it was nice, but she wasn’t you. Also, I hate Shakespeare. I can’t understand him, and Sooah can’t be bothered to translate for me. And when she does, it’s not the same as when you do it. You’re _funny_ , even though you’re a nerd.”

You don’t know whether to feel complimented or insulted at his little rant, but he’s looking at you innocently, waiting for your reaction. 

“Anything else you wanna get off your chest?” You’re half-joking to try and combat your feeling of embarrassment and awkwardness, but he carries on.

“You’re also very cute. You looked super adorable in that hoodie you wore on Monday and I kept thinking about how I wanted you in _my_ hoodie. If you wanted to watch _Star Wars_ with me, I’d watch them all. If you wanted to play _Papa’s Pizzeria_ , then I’d play it with you. I know I’m shit with Shakespeare and I didn’t really understand this Elizabeth lady _that_ much, but if you want it in simple terms: you’re like my _Papa’s Pizzeria_.”

He finally runs out of words, exhaling shakily. 

“Anything to say, Y/N?” He seems hopeful although you can see him fidgeting, preparing in case you decline him.

“So,” you say after a moment. “You got me to help you with another girl and now you’re interested in me?”

“It’s not-” Yangyang’s eyes go wide as he tries to defend himself but he stops when he sees your smile.

“I mean, _Papa’s Pizzeria_ ,” you stand up, moving to the end of the desk and opening the little divider up so he can enter the librarian area. “How can I refuse that?”

“Are you being sarcastic?” Yangyang breathes, watching you. “Because normally I can tell but I can’t now. Is that a yes? Do you even like me?”

“Yes, it’s a yes, Yangyang, to both of those questions.” You roll your eyes, smiling wider as he lights up and begins to move. “What do you take me for?”

“A nerd,” laughs. “ _My_ nerd, now.”

“I _hate_ you,“ you grin, but he smiles like you’ve just said the opposite.

-


End file.
